There Isn't a Flag I Haven't Waved
by Setaflow
Summary: [REWRITE] Ava Whittemore, caught between two identities and two worlds, finds herself thrust into another as she takes up the life of an Assassin unwillingly. As the American Revolution unfolds around her and the battle between Templars bleeds into her every decision, Ava must discover what her role in these wars must be, and just how much of herself she needs to sacrifice.
1. Preface

Hey guys.

So some of you who've been around on this FF page might have remembered seeing an older version of this story around 2013-2014. Some of you might have read it. Hell, some of you might've even liked it. Well, here's a little backstory about myself and that fanfic.

I started writing it when I was sixteen, and it was my first ever story. It was a pretty exciting time in my life. I had never written anything before in terms of creative writing and I wanted to write something for my favorite character and my favorite video game series. It was fun, because I liked lore building and I enjoyed the idea of creating a character that was a product of everything I made it.

And when I was writing it?

God, was I an asshole.

I wrote like I was the best goddamn thing ever put on God's green earth and I really don't know why to this day. Maybe it was some sort of age and arrogance thing. Maybe I was full of myself. Maybe I was just stupid. Whatever. I digress.

Well anyway, I'm twenty now. I haven't updated the original version of _TIaFIHW_ in about a year and a half. Which is really a damn shame, because I always knew how I wanted to finish it but I just...ran out of steam. Around September of my sophomore year of college, I fell into a pretty bad depression that still is sort of going on, and I fell out of writing for a pretty long time. The last 10 chapters of _TIaFIHW_ went unwritten because, well, two reasons.

One, I didn't have the energy to finish it anymore. Two, I _hated_ it.

No seriously. I've read and re-read that story and all it's chapters several times and out of the 42 chapters I wrote, I currently feel as though maybe 3 of them are redeemable in any way, shape, or form. I drop characters randomly and constantly. I forced in a romance because I thought it would get me more hits. Everyone was out of character. It was in first person for some goddamned reason. And I wrote so pretentiously it makes me want to jump back in time and throttle seventeen-year-old me for writing so ridiculously. (And if you think that sounds harsh, it's honestly just the way I am at this point).

So yeah, if you clicked on this, you can see where this is going. It seems to be a theme, hasn't it? A lot of the stories about Connor Kenway that I remember reading when I was a teen two or three years ago are getting rewrites and I can't really understand why but I'm grateful nevertheless. And here I am, hopping on the bandwagon. I've actually been wanting to rewrite this story for about three months. And this isn't just a polish or a fixing of grammatical mistakes. This is a full rewrite: new origins, new characters, new ending. The pieces of the original-writing wise, character wise, or plot wise-that I was actually fond of may make a return but aside from that, it's basically a total reimagining on my part.

This is the version of _TIaFIHW_ that I've always wanted to write but didn't have the skills nor the maturity to fully do so.

I'm not making authors notes anymore except if I need to clarify something or I need to add translations. Honestly, I don't think they'll be missed, because my authors notes were cringey as hell. I'm solely here for your enjoyment and for your reading pleasure. Consider this enough authors notes to make up for my following lack of ones.

And hey. Chances are that I won't finish this. Between you and me, it's pretty likely. But if I get back into writing, then maybe I'll start to feel better about myself again. And to me, that's at least worth something.

As always, I don't own Assassin's Creed or Ubisoft's portrayal of historical figures. I do, however, own all of my OCs.

Thank you for clicking and thank you in advance for any reviews, follows, or favorites that you may leave me.

On with the story.


	2. Chapter I

**Chapter I: The Stranger**

* * *

 _January 2nd, 1773_

 _Lunenburg county, Virginia_

It was just after midnight when sixteen-year-old Ava Whittemore awoke to a snowstorm and a noise outside her window.

Ava was always a light sleeper. They all were, their bodies used to rising at the crack of dawn. It had felt as though she had just fallen asleep, her legs still numb and sore from standing all day in the manor. She let out a small breath as she blinked sleep out of her eyes and watched the air float away into the cold winter night.

The noise had been small but Ava slept up against the wall. It dragged and scratched on the other side of the cabin, drifting over her ears and rippling down the length of her back. Startled, she had bolted upright, throwing off her covers and hurrying to the small window of their cabin. Ten bunked beds crowded the walls, leaving little space for Ava to maneuver. The chill seeped right up her flimsy nightgown, having invaded the room now that the fire embers had died down. A gray shadow had fallen over the sleeping forms of the other slaves, their bodies rising and falling lightly, struggling for warmth.

Ava pressed her nose to the glass and rubbed a portion of the frost away with the palm of her hand. She saw it was snowing again. The flakes fell softly, but the wind whirled, obscuring the outside scenery. From memory, Ava knew where she was supposed to be looking. Past the lines of cabins where she made her home were the fields that she toiled in during the warmer months. Past that? Nothing but forest. Her master's manor was a ways from the nearest town, and trees surrounded the property on all sides. On good nights, she could see the silhouettes of the woods in the distance. Tonight, all Ava could see was snow and darkness.

Squinting, Ava struggled to make out much past the weather. Her eyes darted back and forth until they fell upon a shadow in the corner of her vision. It wasn't big, and it wasn't close, but it was human. Ava recognized the hunched form of someone who was caught in the cold and was not prepared for it. The figure, grayed out from the winds and the snow, was only within sight for a few moments before it melted into the weather as though it had never been there to begin with.

"Ava?"

Esther's voice caused Ava to jolt back from the window as though she'd been burned on a stove, nearly careening into the bunk behind her and waking every other slave in their quarters. The figure in question raised her head from the bed above Ava's, pulling strands of hair out of her mouth. Esther's voice was soft, but it still cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife, "I heard something. What's out there?"

Ava shook her head as she did a quick scan of the room. "It's snowing again. And I saw someone heading out into the storm."

The rest of the cabin stayed asleep, but Esther had the ability to make enough noise to wake them in a heartbeat. Fortunately, her voice remained quiet. "Is that all?" was her response, sounding almost bored. "It was probably one of the guards."

Ava hesitated. "Guards? In this weather?" she questioned the other woman, "What guard is going out in a storm like this?"

"The kind that works for this kind of manor," Esther's words were muffled, as she had buried her head back into her pillow.

Scowling, Ava pressed her face back up against the window. The figure was nowhere to be seen, lost in the cold and the snow, and a wave of guilt suddenly overtook her. As quietly as she could manage, she took to her hands and knees and grabbed her worn shoes from under her bed.

Esther, meanwhile, had raised her head again. "Ava, what are—no, no, you are _not_ going out in the fields," she hissed.

"I won't be gone long." Ava promised as she slid the shoes on. "How can we let someone freeze to death out there?"

"You're going to get lost," Esther said, vexed. "You're going to miss curfew."

"Esther, I'm not going to get lost."

"Have you ever been into the forests, and not just on the main road?"

Ava didn't answer, making her way to the door. She felt around on the wall until her hands touched the threadbare material of someone's cloak hanging from the wall. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. She took it off the hook and fastened it around her neck. "I'll be back before the sun rises," she assured Esther.

"You're going to get shot and we're all going to get in trouble," Esther pressed.

Every single word that Esther spoke wasn't without good caution. It was common knowledge that guards patrolled the woods for these very reasons. Forcing down her anxiety, Ava felt around for the door handle, trying to summon courage she didn't even know if she had. "I'll be back before sunrise," she said.

Esther's response was lost to Ava as she opened the door and slipped outside into the night. Shutting the door behind her, she stood there, trying to get her bearings.

The winter winds greeted her as she exited the quarters, so strong that they pushed her back a step. The cold seeped into her skin, chilling her right to the bone within a matter of seconds. Ava hugged the sides of her cloak and wrapped them around her body to preserve what little warmth remained in her. Squinting, she struggled to find a source of the figure's whereabouts. A white expanse was all that greeted her. The fields that she worked on for so long had been abandoned since winter's arrival, the plants that grew there long since dead and wilted. In its place was a sea of snow that separated her from the forests that lay on the other side. Standing on the doorstep of her quarters, with her nightgown on and her cloak too thin to keep her warm, Ava felt as though her destination lay on the opposite side of the world.

Taking a deep breath to steady her resolve, Ava considered grabbing a lantern that hung on the wall, but Esther's warnings rung through her head. If guards were indeed out patrolling tonight, then a flickering flame would turn her into a walking target. Besides, the night sky was lighter now that it was snowing. It was only the winds that hindered visibility. She could only see about ten meters in front of her, but Ava had a feeling that she would be alright otherwise.

Her first step into the snow caused her to sink down to her knees, and she nearly tripped face-first into the ground. Ava stumbled around for a few seconds before finally finding her balance. Chunks of hair flew into her eyes and mouth, but when she let go of the cloak to brush them back, her only source of warmth expanded out and nearly threw her on her arse again. She must have looked like a giant, frightened bat as she stood there on the doorstep of her quarters, wrestling with her appearance. Panicking, Ava quickly tied her hair back with an extra piece of leather she kept around her wrist and collected the rest of her cloak into her sides. It took her a few moments to recuperate and realize that no, no one had seen her flail around. Only then did she gather the rest of her wits and look back at her surroundings.

Footprints from the stranger had created a route that led against their walls and turned to go through the buried fields. Ava's eyes drifted upwards, tracing the path from memory and hoping that that and the trail would be enough to cross. She took a step, then another, and soon she was on her way. The snow couldn't hold her weight and instead tried to swallow her legs with every shaky step she took. The chill of snow on her bare leg was excruciating, and Ava was sure her teeth would break from her chattering. Still, slowly, surely, she pushed forward until she herself seemed to melt into the environment around her. When she glanced back for the cabin, not even the light of the lantern hanging on the wall could penetrate through the fog. And then, when Ava turned back, there was nothing in front of her except gray. And to the left and to the right. Gray on all sides. Only the footprints gave any indication where they were going.

For what felt like an hour, Ava kept moving. There were a few times that she wondered if she should just stay out in the middle of the fields until dawn cut through the clouds and she could find her way back home. Ava laughed wearily to no one in particular upon correcting herself. No, it would be the guards who'd find her first, and then they'd drag her by her ankles back up to the manor and do God knows what to her. The winds that blew in and out of her ears seemed to whistle, as if also laughing at her eventual misfortune.

The first tree appeared before Ava like an apparition, a spirit from another world. The branches swayed, cracking together and nearly scaring Ava out of her shoes. She lifted the hem of her nightgown and picked up her pace until she stood next to the tree and could run her hands on the bark. It too was frozen, but the relief that wracked through Ava sent warmth back into her hands. She looked up; spreading out before her were the silhouettes of several more trees that had come out from the darkness like an army. And so Ava moved forward, lost in her mission.

As Ava headed deeper and deeper into the woods, the winds became less and less noticeable. They were still there, of course, but she discovered that the deeper she went, the less the breezes could penetrate through the forest. The trees grew thicker and thicker, bunched together as if they were brothers. Buried undergrowth caused Ava to trip as it got tangled in her nightgown or scratched at her legs. The snow fell lightly now, unperturbed by the winds and settling down on whatever surface it could find. The footprints continued on further and further into the woods as Ava tried to search for their creator.

Being out in the forests was strange. The first thing that struck Ava was just how silent it was. Out here, where the worst of the winds couldn't penetrate, a thick quiet had fallen over the woods until the only sounds were the crunching of the snow and Ava's own breaths. It was strangely…freeing. She hated the idea of having eyes on her, of always being monitored and watched. When she worked, be it in the fields or the manor itself, she was never used to the constant pairs of eyes and the way they bored holes into her body as they observed her. Ava had learned that no matter what she did and no matter how perfect her work appeared to be, there was never any room for imperfection. Her masters _always_ knew; she had the scars on her back to prove it. But here? It felt as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and despite the cold, she felt full of energy, almost eager to keep going.

The second thing that struck Ava was a honed sense of danger that she kept trying to ignore but could never quite shake. Each rustle and every noise sent her diving into the dead undergrowth or scrambling behind a tree, frantic to get out of the open. If it wasn't guards out here, then surely it would be animals. Ava's father had told her stories of wolves and bears and mountain lions that could maul a man in seconds, and she wasn't exactly keen to meet one face to face. And so, heart pounding, she would retreat to whatever cover she could find and press herself into the earth, praying not to be seen. It seemed childish after a while when the noise would only turn out to be a mound of snow falling to the earth, but Ava was trained, conditioned, not to take any chances.

Once, the noise that sent her into cover turned out to be a deer. Ava stared at it from underneath a clump of brambles, mesmerized, as it sniffed at a frozen bush and head deeper into the woods. She watched it go, wishing with all her heart that she could somehow chase it back to the cabins so someone could kill it. She'd never tasted venison before, but any food that Ava and the others could get their hands on would never go unused. A sense of hollowness settled into her stomach as she watched the deer disappear into the trees, and it took her a few more minutes to remind herself that she was indeed on a mission and that she needed to keep going else she be trapped in the trees.

The longer she stayed out there, the more worried Ava was starting to become. The stranger's footprints continued on, but the trees never seemed to change. Every time Ava glanced up, it was the same trunks, the same branches, the same clouds that stretched out over her head. She resisted the urge to call out into the night but it was becoming harder and harder to fight the temptation. There was no moon for Ava to estimate her time—how long she'd been out and how much time she had left to return—and what had felt like freedom had suddenly felt like a cage, a different kind of cage then she was used to. She was still on the property, that much she was sure of, but Ava had no idea where on Earth she was going. She paused several times, each time weighing the option of cutting her losses and turning back. In the end, it was a battle of panic versus curiosity. Curiosity won out every time, and so Ava pressed forward, clutching her cloak tightly to her body and convincing herself that she was doing the right thing.

After walking for what felt like an eternity, something changed. The footprints had taken a sudden turn, now heading in a completely different direction than before. Ava took a moment to collect her thoughts, standing there shin-deep in snow as her curls fell into her face. What had caused this? She scanned the area around her but saw no sign of guards (thank goodness for that; she was standing out in the open, after all). When she saw nothing out of the ordinary, Ava turned and continued on the trail. A few minutes after she changed direction, she found her answer.

Several pairs of footprints crisscrossed the snow in front of the body of a deer. It was a male deer (a stag? Ava was sure male deer were called stags), and had seven points on each of its antlers. The poor thing had been shot twice—once in the hindquarters, once in the neck. Blood matted its fur and stained the snow surrounding it. Streaks of red mixed with the white, the snow tracks wide where the deer had been dragged and lain to rest under a tree. Propped up against the carcass was the weapon that had been used to take it down: a musket.

For a few moments, Ava stood there, staring at the stag, unsure of what to do. Her hand had flown to her mouth when she first laid her eyes upon it, not trusting herself to remain silent. It took a long time, the winds whipping at her nightgown and the snow falling lightly on the animal's body, for her to even dare to move forward.

Ava's mind immediately went to the stranger, but she stopped herself. The owners of the manor thought that wild animals of any kind were barbaric, and paid hunters handsomely for their removal in the spring to prevent breeding. Even the guards got in on the fun from time to time. Ava had seen them bring back rabbits, deer, even a wolf once. They thought it a sport, a challenge that broke the monotonous nature of their jobs. She'd seen them guffaw whilst ripping out the teeth for trophies. They'd pat each other on the backs and clink tankards together, bragging of the money they were sure to get. Sometimes, she and the others would watch. Sometimes, the guards forced them to watch.

She reached her hand out slowly. The dead deer's eyes were open, and appeared to be fixed upon hers. A light brushing of snow coated its pelt. Blood slowly became absorbed into the snow and sped steadily across the forest floor.

 _This is a recent kill,_ she thought abruptly.

Ava retracted her hand, her eyes growing wide from the realization.

 _You shouldn't be lingering here_ was the only coherent thought that ran through her head.

Too late.

When Ava turned around to run, she was met face to face with a person reaching out for her.

Their hand was only several inches away from her back, but it returned to the stranger's side the moment Ava and them had locked eyes. She didn't see much—maybe startled eyes that seemed to mirror her own emotions, and a sword strapped to their belt—before Ava tore off in the other direction, fighting against the snow and her own desire to scream her terror to the sky.

She thought she could make it home. She thought she could outrun this stranger before they attacked her. But Ava had never been more wrong. She had barely gotten a few steps before a large weight crashed down upon her and flattened her into the snow. She tried to yell this time but was met with a mouthful of snow before any sound could get out. Next, Ava tried squirming and thrashing, but the weight on her back had planted itself across her body. She could try to throw it off as much as she could but a terrifying thought told her that she was trapped and pinned by the same stranger she had been seeking to help.

Suddenly, Ava heard footsteps, and the sounds of heavy breathing as though someone had run to catch up with them. It was only then that Ava's blood ran cold. It wasn't one stranger. It was two. And here she was, hopelessly outmatched in size, strength, and courage.

"Sabine," a deep voice commanded, not the one on her back but the one that had followed, "let her up."

The weight on Ava's back didn't change for a moment, but then it was lifted. The moment she heard the sound of snow crunching to her left, Ava flipped over and scrambled on her hands and feet as far as she could in the opposite direction. The figure that had pinned her down stood back up, and to Ava's horror, looked no less intimidating than their counterpart. Thoughts of the dead deer flashed through her mind.

The first hooded figure suddenly raised a hand, calling for her. "Wait-"

But that was all Ava heard before the ground gave out from under her. Ava yelped as snow and rock disappeared from under her fingertips and she plummeted downwards. The two figures vanished from her sight as she spun in the air before struck the ground with considerable force. Then she rolled and rolled and came to a stop, spitting snow and gravel from her mouth and groaning. Ava wrenched her eyes open; it looked as though she'd fallen into a large hole in the middle of the forest. She could see where the snow was disturbed at the top where she had taken her spill, and could still feel the pain sharp in her shoulder as she landed.

Ava nearly recoiled as the two figures appeared at the top of her hole to stare at her. The taller of the two jumped in first, the shorter one following after a moment's hesitation. As they approached her, Ava used the opportunity to get her first good look at her assailants.

They were dressed very similarly at first glance. Both wore nearly identical outfits. White cloaks, or robes, or something similar. Their jackets gave them the look of soldiers, looking quite like the standard issued coats Ava had seen the British armies don, but two key differences stuck out. One were the bottoms, which had been cut up at the knees and split into two tails that blew behind like a cape. The second were the hoods that shrouded their faces, making their features impossible to distinguish no matter how hard Ava tried. The taller figure had red accents on his cloaks, the shorter figure had blue accents. Drenched in darkness, the colors had become muted, the whites becoming grays and the reds becoming maroons. They stood there like ghosts, wrapped in weather they almost seemed to command. Both dressed warmly, furs sticking out of the sleeves and collar. Despite their preparations, the taller one still shivered, and the shorter one stood rigidly like they were trying to repress any feelings of the cold around them. Each wore heavy amounts of leather on both wrists, and had boots going up to their knees. The shorter one had a sword strapped to one side and a pistol strapped to the other. The taller one had a long spear hooked onto the back.

As Ava tried to back up again, the shorter one held out a hand, speaking in the deep voice she'd heard before. "Stop."

Ava stopped. She pushed herself to her knees, trembling. For a few moments, no one spoke. The silence that she had loved not too long ago suddenly had become unbearable, choking the air between her and the two strangers.

"A-are you going to…t-to kill me?" Ava finally broke the hush.

Both strangers shook their heads.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

Again, both strangers shook their heads.

"Then what do you want from me?"

The taller figure spoke. Their voice, too, was deep, but Ava thought it sounded significantly more feminine. "What are yo-?"

The shorter figure silenced their companion by holding up their hand. It was simple, but effective, as the taller figure fell quiet. "What is your name?" the deep voice was heavily accented, the English words spoken slowly as though unsure of their meaning.

By now, Ava had gotten her feet back under her and was starting to stand back up. "Ava Whittemore," she spoke quietly, barely making a murmur.

"Where do you live?" the accented voice asked.

God, she hated this. Ava had an inability to tell lies, especially in situations like this where she was being interrogated. Words would pour out from her mouth like ale from an uncorked bottle. The more fearful she felt, the faster her words would flow out. And there was never a moment in her life when she hadn't felt fearful. "I work on the manor through these woods," she pointed in the vague direction of where she came from, "I heard you outside my quarters and followed you. You have my deepest apologies; I won't tell anyone about what I've seen tonight. I swear on my life."

The shorter figure let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle. "You don't need to do that," the deep voice assured her.

Ava blinked, thrown off by their…kindness wasn't the right word to describe it. Forgiveness seemed the better choice. "Who are you?" she dared to ask.

The taller figure opened their mouth but it was the shorter figure who spoke again. A hand motioned to each of them. "My name is Léon," he said, pointing to himself, "and this is Sabine."

Sabine jerked her head in acknowledgement, disgruntlement clear as day in her movements. For a few moments, Ava was unable to move again until she gathered herself and dipped her head as properly as she could to both Léon and Sabine in turn.

"We apologize for giving you a fright," Léon said, taking two steps closer. As he moved towards her, Ava matched his steps backwards, never once shortening the distance between them. To her relief, Léon immediately got the message and didn't advance again. "You startled us. We assumed you would be one of the guards that patrolled the property."

"Are you lost?" Ava asked.

"No," Sabine said stiffly. It was the first time she'd spoken in a while. Her voice had the same heavy accent as Léon's, and the coldness in her voice matched the air around them perfectly.

Ava dipped her head again. "My apologies," she muttered quickly.

"What for?" Léon asked now.

"I shouldn't have asked. Of course you aren't lost. My sincerest apologies."

Neither Léon nor Sabine spoke for a moment, each exchanging a glance with the other. Even Sabine's expression had morphed into one that Ava could not read. "How old are you?" Sabine was the one who asked the question this time.

"I just turned sixteen years of age the previous month, ma'am."

Again, they bowed their heads together. This time, Léon and Sabine spoke in a hushed undertone. What little words Ava could catch were not English, though not entirely unfamiliar. The rhythms sounded French to her, though strangely accented. Certainly not the European style of French that accompanied guests of her master's manor. It sounded far less proper, and Ava couldn't pinpoint its origins to anything she had heard or seen before.

Léon spoke to her once again. "You mentioned that you'd come from the manor, correct?"

"Yes, sir," Ava replied.

" _Myse?_ " Léon spoke to Sabine in a humorous tone, " _Pa gen yon sèl te janm rele m' 'msye' anvan."_

"Focus, Lèon." Sabine snapped before turning back to Ava. "What of the people that live at your manor? What do you know of them?"

And just like that, Ava felt cornered. Her words froze in her throat and her courage seized up. Instead of answering, she stood there, shivering and clutching at her cloak. Her mind raced and reeled, her eyes darting back and forth between the trees as though she expected the owners of the manor to pop out of the bark and accuse her of insolence. Ava stood, rooted to the spot, not daring any form of treachery to pass her lips. Sabine and Léon stood there, waiting for her to speak. Ava watched as Sabine's lips grew thinner as the seconds stretched on and Léon's smile wane while he waited for her to answer.

"What are their names? Where did they live before they came to America?" Sabine demanded, growing impatient. "What do you know of them and their relations with th-."

Again, Léon held up his hand and shot Sabine a warning look to silence her. In response, Sabine's eyes flashed from under her beaked hood, but she didn't continue any further.

During their pause, Ava found her voice again. "Why do you want to know?" Ava questioned, her voice small. Both soldiers' heads snapped back in her direction.

"We've come a long way to visit the colonies," Léon replied. "We were hoping that the owners of the manor could show a few weary travelers some hospitality."

Ava blinked. "And the deer…?" she trailed off.

"An offering for the owners of the property," Sabine said, too quickly and too forcefully. Ava nearly recoiled backwards again, caught off guard by her momentary ferocity.

Léon shot Sabine another look that Ava couldn't catch and returned his attention to her. "We do apologize again for frightening you," he said, clearly trying to make an effort to appear less alarming to her. "If you would like, we could lead you back to your ho—your quarters."

Ava shook her head vigorously. "I thank you, sir, but there's no need. Truthfully, I think it would be in all of our best interests if I never returned here again."

Sabine fixed her with a pointed stare. "That would be wise of you," she said frigidly.

No one said anything after that, the three of them standing at a sort of stalemate. Sabine's words marked a clear end to the conversation, creating an uneasy strain between the two groups that no one seemed willing to break first. Tentatively, Ava took the first step backwards. When neither of the two strangers made moves to follow, Ava whipped around and, stumbling, raced away as fast as she could from Léon and Sabine. She chanced a look back before being engulfed by the trees, but they were not there. It was if they had vanished with the wind, and carried on deeper through the forest. And then the woods crashed around her, and Ava thought of them no more.

She ran for the longest time, almost not even caring if guards caught her. Fear gave her legs plenty of strength while she sprinted through the woods. Her cloak and her nightgown lashed out behind her to catch on brambles and bracken until Ava was sure that clumps of her clothing were left behind, claimed by the nature around her. As she ran, the snow came to greet her, stinging her face and flying straight into her eyes. She found herself squinting through the storms the rest of the way, unable to see several meters in front of her and hoping to God that she wouldn't run face first into a tree.

When she ran back to her quarters, Ava no longer felt alone. Quite the opposite. She felt eyes—the eyes of the two soldiers—watching her back the entire way as she raced through the trees and the storms to make it back before the sun rose to a new day.

* * *

 **"Pa gen yon sèl te janm rele m' 'myse' anvan": No one has ever called me 'sir' before (Haitian Creole)**


End file.
